Sunday, December 28, 2014

Recitative


The divine quiet, so tender to admit
a boy and his toy trumpet
of out-of-key
words.



4 comments:

Lorraine Renaud said...

Divine Quiet, i never get but the boy oh yeah, i thought you lived in a house? or are you like me stuck in an apt never being alone...

William Michaelian said...

We do indeed live in a house; the boy referred to is me, who persists in breaking the silence with poems such as these.

Lorraine Renaud said...

and you keep on doing just that ok?

William Michaelian said...

In the strangest, funniest way, I feel it really isn’t up to me. And so, we shall see.